In Sickness and In Health
by amsayy
Summary: Every year, Clyde Donovan gets Hay Fever. And he's a bit of a baby about it. For the South Park Drabble Bomb


Bebe Stevens loved her fiancé. She loved Clyde with all her heart, every inch of her being.

But by god, he was the biggest damn baby she'd ever encountered in her life. She got it, it was hay fever season. By the way Clyde was acting, though? You'd think he had the Ebola virus. Bebe had to escape their home under the guise of getting him some honey lemon tea and Vicks Vapour Rub. Sure, she'd gotten those things, but she had also stopped off at Wendy's to give her newborn son a bit of a cuddle and congratulate her and Stan on their new addition to the family.

Bebe didn't stay long, spending most of it kissing Richard all over his plump little cheeks and chubby little fingers. Clyde might have hay fever, but Bebe's baby fever was strong ever since Wendy had told her she was pregnant. But the only baby she had right now was the big, thirty year old one tucked into bed a few houses down the street. Whom she needed to tend to.

She'd been gone to long, and Clyde would no doubt be rolling around in the bed covers in his own personal agony. Begging God to send his future wife to his side to take care of him. So she'd kissed Stan on the cheek, hugged Wendy tightly, and reluctantly gave Richard back to his parents before driving back down the street to her own home.

It was a beautiful thing, newly built just like every house on the block. Just like every house that had been built in the last few years. Spiralling staircase, large rooms, everything open and airy. With dark hard wood and neutral walls and stainless steel appliances and chandeliers in the foyer and dining room. It was huge, and it was empty. And Bebe so badly wanted to fill it with tiny pitter patters of feet and crying children.

As she shut the door behind her, she heard just that. The sound of socked feet running with small steps across the hard wood flooring, sniffles and little sobs going through the house. Bebe looked up the staircase, seeing Clyde standing at the top looking absolutely hopeless. He had wrapped himself in the king sized duvet, most of it trailing behind him and probably collecting dust from the floor.

"Whab too ou so long?" He asked, as Bebe kicked off her heels and made the ascent up the stairs, Rite Aid bag in hand. As she got closer, she looked at his swollen and red face. His dripping nose, running eyes. She felt for him, her poor sick baby. With one sleeve of her red sweater, Bebe wiped gently at Clyde's nose, uncaring of how gross it might be. "I stopped at Wendy's, I picked them up some diapers and formula while I was there," Bebe said, opening her arms up to pull Clyde against her for a cuddle. She felt him wipe his face on her shoulder, before relaxing against her.

"I don feel well," he whimpered, and Bebe rubbed at his back, the bag crinkling as she did so. "I know, baby. I know. Lets get you back into bed, hmm?" She cooed, letting him go but kept a hand on his back to lead him back to the master bedroom at the back of the house.

Bebe helped him back into bed, readjusting the pillows behind him and tucking the blanket properly around him. When he was settled, Bebe sat on the bed beside him and dumped the contents out the bed for them both to see. "I got some Vicks to help clear you out," she said and pulled the small blue pot out the box, ripping off the safety seal before dipping her fingers into the jelly. Clyde knew this routine well, one his mother did for him every year before she'd died. Bebe was happy to continue it, as she had done for years now. He pulled up his shirt, exposing his chest for Bebe to rub the petroleum jelly onto it. She felt Clyde flinch under her fingers from the cold, and every year Bebe kicked herself for not thinking to warm it between her fingers first. Small things like that to make it even just a tiny bit easier on her man.

"Fanks, babe," Clyde mumbled, pulling his shirt down and the blanket up as Bebe put a little dollop of the vapour rub under his nose. "You're welcome, baby," Bebe smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. "I got some for the humidifier as well," she said and held up the bottle. "That should really help loosen up your snot."

Clyde looked at her like she was a Goddess, the most amazing thing that had been gifted to him in his life. And when he looked at her like that, sick or not, Bebe couldn't help but feel even more in love with her thirty year old man child. She blushed, as she always did when Clyde looked at her with that look of worship, before picking up the next few things she'd purchased. "I also got you some oatmeal bath soak to help with the itching. And some Benadryl. And some of those lollipops for kids with a sore throat, the banana ones." Bebe opened the pack of them, pulling out a lolly and ripped off the cellophane before holding it to Clyde's mouth to take.

Bebe wanted to snap a photo on her phone, Clyde cuddled up in bed sucking on a lozenge. Even in sickness, he was a beautiful man. She couldn't help but think of the children they'd have. The look on her face must have read something, as Clyde scooted over in the bed a little and held back the blankets for Bebe to climb on in. She did so, and Clyde tucked her under his arm and held her head against his chest. Bebe could hear his heart beat, and moved her head slightly to kiss his chest. He smelled like bananas and Vicks and her dove soap from a shower he had this morning. "I lobe you," Clyde said, running a hand through her blonde curls. "I lobe you so mush, too goob for me. I can't waif to marry you."

Bebe giggled, nuzzling against his chest. "I love you too, baby. Anything for you. In sickness and in health, remember? I'll be here no matter how much snot you make."


End file.
